In A Dark World
by Shanaqui
Summary: While Will was weak, the Dark could take everything from him. WillxBran.


"You underestimated me, didn't you?" 

Will took a moment to understand what he was hearing. It'd been days -- perhaps weeks -- since he'd heard a human voice, an honest-to-god human voice, rather than the whisperings of the rising darkness. It took more than a moment to realise who owned that voice: the Welsh lilt, the hint of arrogance -- "Bran?"

"That's me." Bran put a hand under his elbow and hauled him up. "You and your kind thought you could take it all from me, didn't you?"

"Huh?"

"My memories. My... heritage." There was the sound of fabric shifting: Will guessed that Bran had shrugged. "You know what I mean, Old One. And so you've come to this, all alone and being beaten back by the Dark that wasn't quite as beaten as you'd always hoped... I wonder if your masters already knew it'd be so. Until the Dark is chased out of human hearts, you'll never have vanquished it..."

"You..."

"I remember, yes." Bran sighed softly. "Look at you now... I know your kind have amazing healing powers. Will you ever -- "

"No," Will said, and he swayed on his feet a little. "The pain -- it's already faded somewhat. But..."

"I'm sorry," Bran said, and moved closer, putting his arms around Will: steadying him and comforting him all at once. "I'm sorry. Once I remembered, I should have come to you sooner, but my Da -- you know how my Da was. I thought you'd be alright."

"It's not your fault."

"We need to get you to a doctor. The wound doesn't look good. Immortal or not..."

"Simon Drew."

"He's a proper doctor already?" Bran sounded genuinely surprised. "It's been too long since I wrote to any of the Drews... Alright, Simon Drew. He patched you up before or something?"

"He's strongly linked to the Light. I'm safest with him."

"He won't be able to -- "

"No, he won't be. Come on, Bran. We need to go. I assume you cleared a way?"

"What do you think I am?" He made a derisive noise. "There'll be no one to stop us on our way out. Should I give you a piggyback, or will you be okay to walk? No offence, but you're probably going to trip over something and fall..."

For a moment, Will hesitated, reluctant to speak, as if that would somehow make the problem more real. Then he nodded slightly. "You might as well give me a piggyback. I'm not used to this yet and I'm not very strong..."

There was a wry note in Bran's voice when he spoke: Will could imagine the half smile on his face as he said it, rueful and faintly amused. "Pull the other one, Will-bach. You've got more reserves than I have energy to begin with."

"I've been here in the dark for days," Will said, softly. He ran his fingers through his hair, wincing a little: he imagined that he looked a fright, with blood all over his face and matting his hair. "I could probably get out of here if you led me, but... I'm tired, and I want to get out of here and to a doctor as soon as I can."

"Sorry," Bran said, softly.

"None of this is your fault. Just... help me."

---

"Can't you do _anything_?" Bran asked. There was frustration and anger in his voice: Will could imagine his expression, as clearly as if he could still see it. Awkwardly, he stretched his legs, knocking the desk in front of him. He was in Simon's office, he supposed -- that was where Bran had been told to take him. He'd been there before, once, to get something stitched up, back when there was a kind of exhilaration in the fight, when it hadn't seemed so serious. Simon hadn't asked, then. But there was an unfamiliar tightness to his voice now, an anger.

"No. Even if you'd brought him here earlier, I can't do anything to save his sight. Someone _meant_ him to be blind. What are you two involved in?"

"Don't worry, _you_ aren't a part of it," Bran said, with an edge of contempt. Then, softer: "And nor am I, really. I just found him like this. What _can_ you do?"

"Clean him up, give him something for the pain... that's all. Maybe if he went to the hospital -- "

"No," Will said, quietly. He wondered if they'd started at hearing him finally speak up. "I haven't got time."

"Will..." Simon came towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I can only do so much. Maybe the doctors at the hospital -- "

"You know they can't," he said, flatly. "Just do your best. And... show Bran how to clean it and... whatever else." He turned his head slightly, in the direction Bran's voice had come from. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for your help, from now on. I didn't want you involved, but..."

"You know I'm with you," Bran said, softly. Will almost jumped when Bran touched his other shoulder. "Simon, do your best with it now, and show me whatever I'll have to do, but Will's right. The hospital won't do any good and we don't have time."

"I wish I knew what you two are involved in," Simon muttered, but he stepped away from Will then, opening a cupboard. "I'll do my best."

Bran crouched beside him. Will wasn't sure how he knew that, but he didn't question it: the senses of an Old One, he suspected, and perhaps some of that famous adjustment of the other senses to the loss. He turned his face to Bran, aware also that Bran winced at the sight of his ruined face, even now -- maybe even more so, because the dried and crusted blood no longer hid anything.

Bran took a breath. His voice was soft enough that perhaps Simon didn't hear. "Why don't you have time?"

"The Dark might come for me. I don't want to bring it upon anyone else. Especially not someone... defenceless."

"It'll come for both of us, you mean," Bran said. He touched Will's hand lightly: Will wasn't sure who he was trying to comfort. "I won't leave you now."

"Bran -- "

"Think about it, Old One," he said, softly, and yet there was a king's command, a king's wisdom, in the tone. "You can't care for yourself now. Besides, you might need to keep an eye on me, since I remembered when I wasn't supposed to. And... in saving you, I risked myself. The full power of the returning Dark might just choose to crush me. We're strongest together."

"Move out of the way a minute," Simon said, coming close again. He turned Will's chair to him, gently beginning to clean his face again. Will swallowed, sickly, aware suddenly that the wounds had been oozing again. Simon was careful, trying not to hurt him, and yet his hands were steady and sure, comforting. "There. You're going to have to keep this very clean from now on. Bran will have to clean it for you. I'll bandage it now, and give you as many rolls of bandages as I can so you can change the bandages often. Bran, you'll have to watch how I do it."

"I'm watching."

Will sat still as Simon worked on the bandaging. "Thank you, Simon," he said quietly. "For -- for not asking too many questions."

"Only because I don't think I'll get answers." There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment and then Simon sighed. "If I can ever do anything..."

"We'll let you know," Bran promised.

Will opened his mouth as if to protest the _we_, but then closed it again, shifting uncomfortably. "I should probably come back in a while for you to have a look at this mess, anyway."

"Good idea." Simon tied the bandage off and sighed. "I'll find some supplies for you. Take good care of it, Will. It could easily get infected."

---

He got used to it. He had to. He knew there was no going back -- no medicine or spell or gift, from human or Old One, that could mend the harm. He learnt to find his way by touch, learnt to tell how Bran was feeling from the sound of his voice, learnt to use his every sense and ability to make a way for himself.

"I don't understand why you accept this so easily," Bran said, one evening. His expression, Will guessed, was troubled. He couldn't quite imagine the way he'd look, but he hated it anyway -- the way his eyebrows might draw together, the wrinkle in his forehead, the downturn of his lips. He didn't remember Bran ever being quite so _worried_ before, quite so absorbed in someone else's problems.

"I have to," he said, simply. "It's easier to accept that I'm blind and learn to find my way around it than to accept being a burden for you."

"You're not a burden," Bran said, quickly, but Will shook his head.

"I need your help for a while longer, but..."

"But _nothing_," Bran said, not letting him continue. There was the sound of a quick movement and then suddenly Bran had seized his hands, holding on tightly as if to drive his point home by that alone. "I _want_ you to be a burden for me, if that's what you insist you are. It's my fault you're like this anyway -- if I'd gone to find you sooner... And you're my friend. I don't want you to disappear."

"I wouldn't -- "

"Don't lie." Bran reached up, suddenly letting go of one of his hands, and touched Will's cheek. "You hate drawing other people into this. You think you have a right to _protect_ me. A duty, even. You don't care if it means you have to be alone, but I _do_."

"I don't remember you being quite so selfless," Will said, lightly, at a loss for anything else to say. Bran squeezed his hand again.

"I'm not. I'm completely selfish. I want to keep you for myself. I want..." he trailed off, and then his hand moved, tracing Will's lips. Will jerked away.

"Don't -- "

"Why not?"

"I... It'll only lead to trouble for you. And I don't deserve it."

"Why not?" Bran was touching him again, not quite so intrusive, but holding his hands again, moving close. "You give up everything because of the Light. You lost your sight because of them, now. If I _want_ to share your danger, what's so wrong with letting yourself have something? It's not that you don't want me, is it? It's that you think you're being noble, doing the right thing... Will, please."

"Bran, I'm _blind_."

"That's your problem?" Bran made a derisive noise. "I'd love you even if the Dark had cut both your legs off. I love _you_, not your eyes."

"But -- "

"Will," Bran said, firmly, and he touched his cheek again. Will almost jumped when Bran's forehead touched his lightly, but instead he stayed still, listening despite the little voice inside that said he should do the right thing and push Bran away again. "I love you. You hear that? I _love_ you. I don't care if the Dark comes, I'll fight it. I was _born_ to fight the Dark. You shouldn't have to face anything alone, especially now -- I won't _let_ you face anything alone."

"Bran," Will said, softly, helplessly. And then he reached up to touch the back of Bran's neck, startled by the warmth of his skin, the reality of it in a dark world. He could feel Bran's breath against his face, the strength of Bran's grip on his hand. He swallowed hard and nodded, just slightly. There were no words -- not just yet. But he let Bran kiss him.

---

"The Dark hasn't come yet."

Will sighed softly, shifting his head on Bran's shoulder. "But it will. I shouldn't be here when it does, you'll -- "

"We've had this conversation, haven't we?" Bran's arms tightened around him. "I'm not saying you're useless, but at the same time, you still need some help. And I want to help you. So let it be me. We agreed that, didn't we?"

"Yes," Will said, with a sigh. "But I think... I think we might be left in peace a while longer."

"Why's that, then?"

"The Dark... they're arrogant. They don't believe me a threat now, so they show their contempt by not coming to attack me yet. Not that they wouldn't act if they thought I posed any threat, but they think I'm neutralised now. Useless." He shifted slightly, restlessly. "I'm not sure they're wrong. I've done nothing."

"I don't think the lull is because they think you're useless," Bran said, after a moment. He ran his fingers through Will's hair, brushing his fingers over the edges of the scarring on his face. "I think they're wary."

"Wary? Of _me_?"

He felt Bran tense a little under him, and realised that Bran would probably very much like to shake him right now. But he kept his voice calm. "Just because you're blind doesn't make you any less what you are. You're an Old One, and a powerful one, charged with taking care of the earth. If they were truly at work in the world, you'd know. They fear you, even now you're blind. They had you blinded because they feared you. And if anything, they're leaving you alone because they know how you'll think. They get inside your head and... They want you to think you're useless, beneath their notice. You almost make it true."

"I'm not a powerful Old One. I'm the last. And the weakest."

Bran snorted. "Yeah, right. You want to leave the earth in someone's care, and you give it to the weakest? More the other way round entirely, I'd think."

"I..."

"You're not safe from manipulation, for all your talents," Bran said, softly. He shifted again, pulling Will closer. "But I know the truth. They'll come in the end. And we'll face them together. Promise?"

Will hesitated, for a moment. Bran shifted slightly, warm and solid and real and _strong_, human and yet more than that, and he found himself nodding. "I promise."

---

The Dark came in the night. They both sensed it, waking to the chill, like cold fingers walking down their spines. Bran cursed. "I hardly want to face them in my pajamas," he muttered. But he helped Will up, going to the window to look outside while Will put some more clothes on. "I can't see anything," he reported. "It seems maybe a little darker than it should be, but that's all."

"When we get out there, you won't be able to see a thing."

"We have to go out there?" Bran said, and then, "You're definitely letting me come with you?"

Will didn't dare try to go to Bran by the window, afraid he'd fall over something and make a fool of himself. But he smiled. "I need you."

Bran moved quickly across the room, standing before him. "I'll do anything you tell me to. Just while we're facing the Dark."

"I doubt there'll be much for you to do," Will said, thoughtfully, turning his face away as if he looked at something else. "But I... Having you there will remind me of things I have to keep in mind. Like this, I _am_ weaker, because I let them weaken me."

"You need me to believe in you, then," Bran said, easily. He leaned down, brushing a kiss over Will's lips. "Come on, then. Outside, we're going to be in the same boat, if I'm really not going to be able to see. It might be an advantage for you..."

"I doubt we'll face the Dark in a flesh form, tonight, but..." Will frowned in thought. "Maybe. Put some more clothes on, so you'll be warmer, and then we'll go."

"Feels funny, standing in here talking, like they're not right outside the door. How come they're not coming in?"

"This is your home." Will shrugged. "The stronghold of the Pendragon, in a sense. They can't, unless they're invited, or unless you falter. But hurry."

Bran was finished in a moment, and at his side again. Will took his hand -- not just for the help in finding the door, in stepping out to face the Dark, but to feel him there, real and solid, believing in him so much. There were times in the darkness when he'd believed the Dark could take everything from him.

And yet, with Bran beside him, holding his hand -- he _knew_ that the Dark had no power.

---

"Was it a dream?"

Will raised his head, turning in Bran's direction even though he couldn't see him. He was smiling, like he hadn't in ages. "Was what a dream?"

"Don't play dumb." Will heard the rustling of covers and the pad of Bran's feet as he slipped out of bed and came towards the window. He wrapped his arms around Will, holding him tightly. He smelled good -- he smelled of soap and washing powder and normal, human things, and Will learned into his warmth. "The Dark. The Dark came last night, didn't it?"

"Yes," he said, after a moment. "And thanks to you, I faced them down."

"I don't remember that."

"It happened." He lifted his head, smiling at Bran. "Thank you."

Bran's arms tightened. "I'll always be here to help you."

"Yes," Will said, and then, softly, like it was the greatest secret in the world, "and they'll never take _you_ away from me."


End file.
